All That's Left To You
by treacle-antlers
Summary: A bittersweet Willow and Spike vignette BS and WT


The story's title comes from the final verse of my favourite Simon & Garfunkel song, 'Old Friends'... just in case you're wondering. Thanks to Limber for her input and for MosDef, as always, for her constant and cheerful support.  
  
********************  
  
  
The voices were soft, but not so soft they didn't wake her.   
  
Drifting out of a shallow, fitful sleep, the only kind she ever seemed to get these days, her tired eyes stubbornly refused to focus on the figures at the door to her room. Disorientated as usual for just a moment her gaze slid to one side, saw the prissy little night stand with it's decoration of lace and fresh flowers, her water jug and juice glass, and then she remembered.   
Oh...yeah.  
  
She was old.  
  
Her hands moved slowly on the bed-cover, clearing her throat as best she could, trying to get their attention. Heard that starchy little nurse saying,  
  
"I'm sorry sir...but it's five-thirty in the morning and your...aunt isn't in any fit shape for visitors anyway."  
  
A low rumble of a man's voice, she couldn't catch the words but she knew who it was now, knew why he was here, tried to speak again but her vocal chords felt so rusty, like she hadn't used them in days. Maybe she hadn't. Time meant so little here.   
  
The nurse's voice again,  
  
"If you'd like to come back later...maybe around midday, I can see if she's..."  
  
Then a swear word, something vicious sounding, causing the white shape to take a step back in sudden alarm. Her voice raising to a sudden, higher pitch of nervous horror. She felt herself begin to smile, knowing what he must have done. A flash of fang maybe, or perhaps just a glint of yellow-eyed predator? She started to laugh softly, unable to stop herself when it turned into a coughing fit.  
  
In a second he was by her side. One slim cool hand resting on her back, patting softly, the other reaching for hers, holding it while her eyes streamed, gasping for breath. She heard the rattle in her throat even before he did and his face finally swam into focus as he bent down to look at her. Blue eyes that reminded her of the summer sky, of home, of better times. A moment and then a tissue dabbed her cheeks, cleaning away her tears as it had so many times in the past. Straightening her bed-jacket for her, running fingers gently through her dishevelled almost-white hair, whilst he eased her back on the pillows. She darted a sharp look to the open doorway where she knew her nurse was still standing.  
  
"Thank you Elise."  
  
The younger woman started forward before stopping short, her eyes suddenly riveted on the face of her visitor. She heard her swallow, begin to protest,  
  
"Ma'am...this really isn't..."  
  
Before another low rumble sent her scuttling backwards,  
  
"O.K. But only half an hour. Then I'm sorry but he'll have to..."  
  
The door closed with a soft click and they were alone. The soft, laboured sound of her breathing the only counterpoint to the clock on her night stand. She closed her eyes for a second to rest them, before looking back again to the face of her guest. His mouth twitched upwards, a shadow of a once wicked grin turned sad and a little weary now, despite having not aged a day since the first time she'd seen him. His gaze met hers and time stood still for a moment, then rolled quietly backwards, sixty years or more. She smiled,  
  
"Hello Spike."  
  
Ivory fingers closed over her own, while another moved with his eyes, brushing a strand of once-auburn hair back into place. Touched her cheek with loving tenderness,  
  
"Hello Red."  
  
She breathed another laugh, a good one this time and heard him echo it.  
  
"What? No one calls you that any more, eh?"  
  
Pencil-thin grey eyebrows raised a little, indicating the waves of yellow-white hair that now covered the top of her head.  
  
"Um...unsurprisingly...no."  
  
His mouth stretched wide and she saw him relax a little, the sharp angles of him softening into the vampire she'd known so well and for so very long. The kind eyes, the careful, consideration in his tone, her constant, her only regular visitor, her dear, dear 'nephew'. One hand went back to his lap, whilst the other continued to hold hers, a thumb softly stroking her wrist. He didn't have to say a word, she knew what he was doing. Discreetly taking her pulse, vampire hearing straining for any sounds that might mean a further advance of illness. She watched his expression change to one of sadness as he listened, heard, accepted the inevitable.  
  
"Not long now."  
  
She saw his eyes dart to hers, pained, before he saw her assent, her relief. Sighed,  
  
"No. Not long."  
  
His head dropped, hiding his face from her and she knew he must be struggling, trying desperately to marry the emotions he felt. Relief, despair, sadness and trepidation. A lifetime's worth of sadness and joy, feeling the end of it all drawing near, she knew it must have been harder for him than for any of the others. They at least had had the comfort of family. They had lived their lives, watched each other grow old, watched each other's children grow up. Although she herself had no sons, no daughters, the Harris children had been every bit as good. Alex was a lovely boy, although he visited the place rarely these days, since Xander...well, since his Father had passed on last year. She held Spike's hand as she remembered another's touch. The bright summer afternoon when her best friend had breathed his last, their fingers warmly meshed as his eyes had closed for the last time, a smile and a joke on his lips,  
  
"Just gonna close my eyes for forty seconds, Will. Then we'll maybe go...have...that game of racquet ball you were...talking about."  
  
Tears refused to come and so she laughed instead. Sweet, wonderful Xander. She had owed him her life and so much more. Spike stirred, squeezing her arm,  
  
"What are you laughing at?"  
  
"Just remembering."  
  
With an effort she lifted her hand and he caught it in concern, helped her to make it the last few inches to his face, cupping the palm to his cheekbone. He was so sad, always so very sad these days.  
  
"What about you? What are you thinking about Spike?"  
  
The smile didn't quite reach his eyes, only pain there.  
  
"The same thing I always think about Red."  
  
She cocked her head in gentle sympathy. Poor Spike.  
  
"About Buffy?"  
  
He nodded but didn't reply.   
  
Something pulled at her heart suddenly, a great well of emptiness, of sorrow, that was finding it's way from him to her. It wasn't the first time it had happened. Sometimes she wondered if it was a side-effect, something left over from the time when magic had bound them together telepathically. But she didn't really believe that. It was something else. Something altogether more prosaic, although no more surprising.   
  
They loved each other.   
  
Her hand twisted, stroking his face and she tried to think of the words, tried to say the thing that would take the hurt away.  
  
"We'll see her again, sweetie. I'm sure of that."  
  
A trace of bitterness entered his eyes and she felt the sting in his words as he replied,  
  
"You will Red. Me? I'm not sure of anything."  
  
So that was it. Their time was almost up and he was having misgivings. She almost laughed again but managed to catch herself. A vampire with a crisis of faith? Only in Sunnydale.  
  
"Spike. If there's one thing I've learned in the last sixty or so years, it's that God? Is sorta...all forgiving."  
  
A ghost of a smile and he returned her hand to the sheets, arranging the afghan over it.  
  
"So they say."  
  
Was he making fun of her? She frowned at him as hard as she could, tried to force a little of that patented Rosenberg resolve back into her features,  
  
"So I say. And Spike? If anyone should know that...it's me."  
  
He wasn't looking at her now, picking at some grapes that Dawn's youngest had brought her, not eating then exactly, just mushing them between his fingers. With a sigh of exasperation she took them from him, placed his hand back under hers.  
  
"Spike, that soul of yours? It's not just an...accessory. It means something."  
  
A hollow laugh,  
  
"Yeah. It does Red. It means the pain never stops."  
  
She glowered at him angrily. God, sometimes he was so dumb.  
  
"No. I mean...it means you don't just end. You go on from here. I thought you believed that?"  
  
A deep sigh rocked his body and she noticed for the first time how thin he'd become. His weariness accentuated by the gauntness of his frame, the hollows under his finely sculpted cheekbones.  
  
"I did. I do. I just...."  
  
Hands spread wide in front of him and she felt his uncertainty now, his desperation,  
  
"I just don't know if I've done enough."  
  
Willow's mouth dropped open slightly, couldn't help herself. Couldn't understand how he could even be thinking that. She stuttered, starting to cough again, fending off the proffered assistance when he moved towards her,  
  
"Not enough? Spike...you've done...what you've done I don't think anyone else could ever have....you..."  
  
He tried to quiet her, gentle hands on her shoulders, pressing her back down onto her pillows. Soft murmurs that told her to rest, to be still, the shaking already starting in her limbs, working it's way up her torso. A minute passed before she could speak again and when she did her voice was hushed but as firm as it had ever been.  
  
"Spike, you looked after us. You cared for us even after Buffy...even when she'd gone. You saved our lives...so many times...you saved the childrens' lives, you saved this whole...damned town for pity's sake!! For all we know...maybe even the world!"  
  
She paused, searching for his eyes but not finding them,  
  
"You've done so much and...what? You still don't think you deserve...some happiness?"  
  
She saw his face change then, a cloud coming over,  
  
"No, Red. I don't."  
  
Oh.  
  
She tried to stop them but she saw the tears coming now, saw the well in him start to overflow. All the fear, all the horror and misery, all the terror and bloodshed he caused, mixing, swirling in the blue of his eyes. And with it all the love and compassion that was ever William, the humanity that had made him care for them, pushed him forward even after he had lost the only thing that had ever meant anything to him. Buffy. His whole world. She knew the answer to the question but she suddenly wondered if he did.  
  
"So why did you do it?"  
  
He choked, still trying to control the emotions,  
  
"Do what?"  
  
She sighed, petting his hand like he was her errant child,  
  
"Why did you save us all? Why did you stay....after Buffy?"  
  
He swallowed, tried to pull away but she wasn't letting him. Shook his head.  
  
"You know why. I made her a promise."  
  
"You promised her you'd protect us, you'd look after us all..."  
  
She paused. Didn't he know yet?  
  
"But Spike...you never promised to love us. But you did...didn't you?"  
  
The sadness in his face was almost more than she could bear now. Sadness and loss. Grief for something he hadn't even acknowledged was his. For the first time ever she was glad that she had little feeling left in her hands because she knew he was gripping them now, kneading the flesh in his despair. His voice broke as he started to speak,  
  
"And what am I supposed to do now? It's over. You're the last one."  
  
She touched his face, let her eyes move to the window where dawn was just beginning to break.  
  
"Whatever you want to do."   
  
smiled as she gave it to him, let the knowledge pass across.   
  
"What do you want to do, Spike?"  
  
A catch and the tears were frozen, hovering, her certainty, her faith entering his unbeating heart in that instant. No need to be afraid. No need to cry anymore. You've kept your promise to her.  
  
**************  
  
She felt no pain as the light surrounded her, warm brightness like sun filtering through curtains the first morning of vacation. A figure, radiating joy, expectant happiness, familiarity, with a swirl of opalescent skirts and silken hair.  
  
"Ready to go, sweetie?"  
  
The beloved voice, honey and milk, at her ear. Green eyes glowing like rain, the solemn expression belying the delight they both felt, able to touch each other at last after so long.  
  
"Oh...baby..."  
  
Young, strong arms rose from her sides, enfolding her love, raining kisses on her cheeks,  
  
"Oh...I've missed you...so...much!!"  
  
Tears washed down and they clung together for what seemed like forever before she noticed the others, standing quietly in the doorway, illuminated, golden with the sun. A step forward, still clutching Tara's hand, unwilling to let go for even a moment,  
  
"Buffy? Oh God...Buffy, Xander! Oh...Jeez...Dawnie? Oz? Oh God...Oz! Is that really you?"  
  
Buried in the middle of a familiar bundle, drinking in the smells, the laughter of her friends, so long since she'd heard them this way, so long since she'd felt this. Their love expanding around her, enfolding her. Giles's voice, God...how long since she'd heard that one?  
  
"Willow...."  
  
A warm hand covered her own and she sank into the scratchy, tweediness of him She smiled at how straight and tall he stood now compared to the last time she'd seen him and how shamll she seemed by comparison, her head barely reaching his chin. He chuckled, noticing too. Stepped back and regarded her earnestly,  
  
"Willow, we need your help. There's..."  
  
Xander interrupted, catching at her elbow,  
  
"There's all kinds of stuff we have to research, Will. No rest for the...well, even for us!"   
  
grinned sheepishly,   
  
"And you're so much better at that kinda stuff..."  
  
Her gaze slipped from one face to the other. Her little room was full and so was her heart. Everyone here...everyone she loved. All except....  
  
"Oh God...Spike!"  
  
She turned and the world went away for a moment, saw him crouched there still, a solitary black figure with his head bowed, tears drying already on pale, hollow cheeks. The old lady's body lying beside him seemed so far away from her now, like an overcoat she'd shed when the sun became to warm to bear. Tara's voice was soft again at her ear, turning her.  
  
"Will...Sweetie? Come along....we should go now."  
  
"But Spike...we can't..."  
  
She felt tears start to her own eyes again. Sad, he was still so sad. How could she leave him?   
Then, suddenly, at the corner of her vision she saw him move, step away from the bed and towards the window. His shoulders straightened as he reached for the curtains, drawing them aside slowly, dim, morning light starting to flood the room.   
  
She watched as the light began to enter him, smoke already beginning to curl from his blonde hair. She saw his resolve. Pure faith. But that wasn't making it any less hard. Poor Spike. So afraid. Wished she could take his pain now, but she wasn't the one, wasn't the person for the job. A smile touched her lips when she saw who had moved to stand beside him, her hair a cascade of gold as she waited, patiently, her eyes never leaving his as his body crumbled to ash, leaving the shape of another man, the same man, standing inside.   
  
She couldn't hear the words Buffy spoke in that moment but she knew they must have been the right ones, because of his face. Both their faces. Full of wonder and surprise, love and amazement. She felt Tara take her hand, touching her lips gently with hers. Her voice a lovely melody she'd never forgotten,   
  
"Will? Come on, baby. Let's give them some privacy shall we?"  
  
Grey green eyes, the hint of a smile, a smile she knew she'd never have to leave again.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
She turned and followed her. Forwards. Into the light.  
  
"I think they've earned it, don't you?"  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
